Flying 'cross the Interstate to get where we need to be.
Another National Historic Site for us to see;
That's why we're Driving Through Georgia.
Hurrah! Hurrah! Just my girlfriend and me.
Hurrah! Hurrah! Her pass gets us in free.
With my dad's electric car to help with the gas fee.
That's why we're Driving Through Georgia,
Bit of a mixup this morning, as I'd set my phone on silent yesterday and forgot to take it off, so we didn't hear my alarm and our plans to have a nice leisurely breakfast down towards the Charleston Battery were thwarted. No to worry, though, since we were able to grab a bite on the way and were none the worse for wear, at least as far as our timetable goes. With a quick jump over the Savannah River, we were in Georgia. My only previous experience with this state was in the areas basically just outside of Atlanta, and while my impressions of the state haven't exactly changed much, it's been interesting to see this part of it. We headed towards Macon aways, and ended up outside of Andersonville, to see the site of the most notorious prisoner of war camp on American history.
I don't know how familiar you might be with the camp, since it doesn't get a lot of mention in the history books, apart from a paragraph or two about how awful it was. Basically, the Confederates threw up a log stockade in the middle of East Nowhere, Georgia, and began to funnel Union POWs there in the spring of 1864. Before that prisoners were actually usually exchanged based on an agreement between the two governments, but that changed after the tide began to turn against the Confederacy and the US realized that it was in its best longterm interests to imprison as many Southern POWs as possible, to break the Confederacy's back. Unfortunately neither side was equipped to handle the influx of prisoners, and Andersonville and other camps like it were hastily thrown together.
The camp itself was an open field inside the log fence, with a smaller series of posts on the inside marking a "dead line", about 20 feet in from the wall. If any prisoner approached the fence past the line he was shot. Other than that the Confederates didn't really care what the prisoners did on the inside, and a shantytown of tents and lean-tos were built by the inmates around a small stream down the center of the camp that was their only water supply. Initially the camp was designed to handle 6,000 prisoners, and things were bad, but not horrific.
With so many men crammed into a lawless pit made for one fifth their numbers, Andersonville became a hell on earth, with military discipline forgotten and gangs armed with clubs roaming around stealing and murdering. Disease due to the contaminated water supply, coupled with a chronic lack of food, led to the deaths of nearly 13,000 of the 33,000 prisoners there. I didn't take any pictures of the photographs of prisoners once they were rescued from the camp at war's end, but you could put them side by side with pictures of prisoners at Concentration Camps in World War Two and not know the difference. It was tragic, terrible stuff.
The National Prisoner of War Museum is also at Andersonville, with artifacts and exhibits about all American POWs, from the Revolution to the present. It was also very good, if heavy, and while I can't say I enjoyed it, per se, it was still very engrossing. A powerful reminder of those left behind after the fighting stops, and a look at a side of war that people don't always want to talk about.
After that we headed north to our campground in Columbus, GA, on the outskirts of Fort Benning. After a minor disagreement with some fire ants on where we made our kitchen area, we regrouped with dinner of sausages and toast, before turning in. We've been reading and writing for a good two hours now, as the sunlight fails and the cicadas come out. After reading a few more chapters in James MacPherson's Battle Cry of Freedom, I updated what I could and prepped for tomorrow. I'm actually finishing this up by the light of the Coleman lantern we got at the MCX at Camp Lejeune (thanks Jacquie!), while Amanda's already asleep. We were playing a game of "Thunder, or Artillery Practice at Fort Benning?" earlier (verdict: DEFINITELY Artillery), but they seemed to have stopped now that it's dark.
But I should wrap up; it's getting close to 11:00, and we have to be up at 6:00 tomorrow to hit the road. From here, we head across Alabama (though Montgomery and Selma), into Mississippi through Jackson, and onto Vicksburg. I think this is the furthest South we go (or, well, that Andersonville was the furthest South), and from here, we go west, north, and back east. Let the next leg of the trip begin!
-M
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